The Same But Different
by Kat-the-Hufflepuff
Summary: A collection of fluffy R/Hr moments. Post-war but still set at Hogwarts. Slightly strays from canon.


_A/N: I know Harry and Ron don't return to Hogwarts with Hermione after the battle, but I desperately wanted to write Ron/Hermione fics were they were at together, but at Hogwarts. So this is just a collection of cute R/Hr moments straying slightly from canon._

_Also this is my first ever attempt at Fan Fiction, so don't judge too hardcore._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or do I?. No, I don't._

"Pleeease?" Hermione had begged him for the dozenth time that evening.

"Hermione," Ron began, "I love you and everything but it's only the second night back, I'm sure the library will still be there tomorrow, It's getting late"

He, Harry and Hermione were sat in the Gryffindor common room. After lots of consideration, all three of them had decided to return to Hogwarts to finish their N.E.W.T's, and Hermione, being Hermione, was already itching to get back to her precious library. Only this time she was insisting that he come with her.

"But I want to show you something," she whined.

This caught his attention, what could Hermione possibly have to show him?

"No you don't, you're just saying that so I'll go with you." he said knowingly, grinning at her.

"Am not!" she replied indignantly, whilst sticking her chin out and pouting at him.

Wow, she looked hot when she did that. He could feel his resistance crumbling.

"Are too." he insisted.

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am no-"

"Will you just take her to the damn library already!" Harry had interrupted quite suddenly, cutting Hermione off mid sentence.

Ron and Hermione shared a look. They had all been pretty edgy since returning, but Harry had been the worst, Ron suspected it was because he blamed himself.

He saw the expression of concern written all over Hermione's features, and guessed that's probably what he himself looked like. Harry had obviously seen it too, for he stood up and announced that he was going to bed.

Ron had the urge to follow Harry, but the thought of the girl siting next to him made him stay.

"Do you think he's okay?" she said after a while of silence, like they were waiting for Harry to return.

"Yeah, he'll be fine, just... needs time to think y'know?" he had replied in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.

"Yes," she said quietly, "I know."

He hated how this could happen. They'd all be happy one minute and then on the verge of tears the next. He hated how just as he thought things were looking up, they could come crashing down. As if they hadn't been through enough.

He looked at Hermione. She had her eyes closed, her mouth in a small frown, and he could tell she was fighting off one of the waves of pain she often got from the after effects of the cruciatus curse. And not for the first time he swore that he would kill Bellatrix if she were still alive.

He had the urge to run across and hug her but held himself back. Hermione hated when she couldn't do something. She hated feeling weak, as if she couldn't handle these things. He knew this because he had spoken to her about it before, in the early days of their new relationship. He had even suggested she go to St. Mungos for a checkup, but she had blatantly refused.

They had been an official couple after the battle. They had helped heal each other's wounds during the summer, Ron was foolish if he thought they'd gone for good. Just coming here alone had re opened most of them, he could see that easily now.

A soft whimper came from Hermione's mouth and he couldn't just sit there and watch her anymore. Closing the gap between them with one long stride, he carefully enveloped her in a hug, sighing with relief when she wrapped her arms around him and hugged back.

They stayed like that until Hermione had stopped shaking, and she pulled away from him cautiously, before sitting down again. She looked defeated, an expression he wasn't accustomed to seeing upon her features. He hated seeing her like this, and hastily tried to think up a solution to resolve it.

"So...you still wanna go to the library?" he suggested half heartedly, a desperate attempt to get her to cheer up.

She looked up at him and nodded, calming herself before speaking, "Yes, I'd like that. Thanks"

"And you can show me that thing you wanted to show me," he said raising his eyebrows at her obvious lie from earlier.

She blushed at this, but smiled all the same, "Yes, suppose so"

He smiled back and followed her out of the common room.

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Their moods had lightened considerably on the walk to the library. He had got her to smile by good naturedly joking about her enthusiasm and grades, making sure he complemented her whilst doing so she wouldn't take offence. He prided himself on his ability to make her smile, as she discussed her classes with him ten minutes later.

He loved how she talked about her education with such enthusiasm, even if he didn't particularly agree that Arithmancy was a great subject, or that Ancient Runes was amazingly interesting, he still loved how she would talk about it. His eleven year old self would have found her incessant talk boring as hell and would probably have drifted off to sleep at this point in their conversation. But his eighteen year old self was almost drooling over the way her eyes sparkled when she recited facts, or how he wanted to snog her senseless every time she mentioned a word he didn't understand, how he felt the need to hug her tightly when she confessed she didn't think she would get very high N.E.W.T levels.

"You're joking right?" he had laughed after she told him she would probably fail Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"No, I'm not, I'm being perfectly serious. It's never been my best subject, and besides what if... well, what if there's a boggart or dementors on the final exam? I'll bet mine's changed from getting bad grades. And I've never been good with dementors... they'll be worse now, won't they?"

"You were one of the main people involved in saving the whole world, Hermione, if that's not good enough to pass your exam then I don't know what is," he said with a laugh. But she had said something that needed considering: When _was_ the last time any one of them had faced a boggart? Ron would bet anything that his had changed fro spiders now too, if the Horcrux locket was anything to go by. But a lot has changed since then too. He allowed himself to wonder what his boggart would be now. The first thought that came to mind was Fred. His own brother lying limp on the ground, dead. He had to blink back tears at the image.

But then an even worse feeling than that had found it's way into his heart. The feeling of being powerless, useless, of being unable to help when someone you love is in danger. That's what he had felt that awful night at Malfoy Manor. When Hermione was upstairs being... well, being tortured. He had nothing to do except focus on her screams. Long drawn out sounds of pain as she suffered at the hands of a crazy woman.

He remembered in detail the sight of her unconscious frail form laying on the cold floor, Greyback's disgusting, warped face as he looked at Hermione like she was a piece of meat, The knife at her throat, pressing into her skin, drawing blood, the chandelier, glass everywhere, Hermione with a million tiny cuts all over her body. He remembered the terrible waiting at shell cottage. Seeing Fleur coming out of Hermione's room carrying blood soaked clothes and bandages, hearing her scream when she woke up, not knowing where she was, hearing her scream since then, every night, when she woke up because of the terrible nightmares she expierienced.

He suddenly felt the need for her near him, to hold her and make sure she was okay, that she was really alive and breathing.

"Ron?" Hermione asked tentatively, reaching for his hand and squeezing it gently.

Ron had not been aware of his surroundings until that moment. He and Hermione had come to a stop in front of the library doors, Hermione was standing in front of him, alive and breathing, but looking worried. It was a moment until he realised the tears running down his cheeks, why Hermione looked so worried.

"Ron?" she asked again, a little louder, squeezing his hand.

"You..You..You're okay." he managed to choke out before grabbing her hands and pulling her into a tight hug for the second time in an hour. Only this time it was because he needed comfort, not her.

"Of course I'm okay Ron, why wouldn't I be?" she whispered into his ear. He could detect the reassurance in her voice, mixed with confusion.

He felt like a complete prat right then. He had just completely broken down in front of his girlfriend. It's not that he hadn't cried in front of her before. He had. On many occasions. But this was different.

"Ron?" Hermione asked him again, panic now evident in her voice, "Why wouldn't I be okay?" she asked once more.

"I...I don't know." he said slowly, "Can we sit down. Please?" he added, feeling rather faint.

She nodded and they entered the library, stopping to sit at a table with two chairs at the back and round a corner. Ron only had a moment to be thankful for this secluded area before Hermione spoke again,

"What happened back there?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said shrugging, "It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Ron!"

"Well, we were talking, and you mentioned boggarts, and I was trying to imagine what mine would be and... well I thought of Fred, obviously."

"Oh. Ron, I-"

"But then I thought of you. That night at Malfoy Manor. And I... just couldn't stop thinking about... what happened. And, I don't know, then you were looking up at me and I realised you were okay, and... I'm sorry." he finished.

"Oh." she said, apparently surprised at this. "Right, well, you shouldn't be sorry-"

"Yes I should." he said interrupting immediately, "I should have done something, I should have helped you, I shouldn't have let her... hurt you."

"There's nothing you could have done!" Hermione had near shouted at him, she too was crying at this point. Ron mentally kicked himself for bringing the subject up. Of course she didn't want to talk about the night she was tortured, nearly eaten by a werewolf, and near killed. He was so tactless.

Ron didn't have any more time to focus on how stupid he'd been, because at that moment she flung her arms around him, sobbing heavily into his chest. He hugged her back, also crying, and once again they stayed like that until both of them had calmed themselves enough to stop crying.

"Sorry" they both said at once. Then laughed. What was so funny Ron didn't exactly know, but it felt so good to hear Hermione laugh, so good to laugh himself, that they carried on laughing until they were both out of breath.

"We're mental aren't we?" Hermione broke the silence that followed with a shaky laugh.

"Yeah, I reckon we are," he said and they grinned at each other like idiots. And Ron realised that the _good one second bad the next _theory worked the other way as well. "So.. that thing you wanted to show me?" he said, attempting to restore their old conversational banter.

"Oh, that."she had replied looking rather embarrassed, "That..doesn't matter anymore." Was he just imagining the red blush creeping up her cheeks?

It seemed they had reached some kind of silent agreement to not talk about what had happened minutes before, which suited Ron just fine. Determined to keep it up he had replied,

"Because there was nothing in the first place, was there? It was just to get me to come to the library with you, wasn't it?"

"No, I honestly wanted to show you something!" she laughed.

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

They were interrupted by Madam Pince, shushing them from across the hall.

"Did not," Ron whispered to Hermione, intent on carrying on their argument.

"Did too," she whispered back, giggling slightly. Ron stopped dead. the sound of Hermione giggling was so... cute and Un-Hermionish, he had to take a moment to store this in his memory forever.

"Fine then, show me now." he demanded.

"Okay." she said with a shrug and beckoned him over to a bookcase at the end of row. Great, she wanted to show him a book.

He watched her intently as she pulled out a rather tattered and dusty leather bound book called _The History of the House Elf_ and felt his excitement deflate. Trust Hermione to want to show him the most boring book in the whole library.

But to his amazement, when Hermione moved the book out of it's place on the shelf, the shelf moved sidewards too. He craned his neck over Hermione's head to see what was inside this mysterious room, and was disappointed further when he saw it was just more dusty old books, more library.

Hermione grabbed his hand and dragged him into the room after her. He watched the rusty door close behind him, and turned around to see Hermione when he felt the amazing feeling of her lips crashing against his.

He wrapped an arm around her back, the other tangling itself in her beautiful curls at the back of her head, responding with enthusiasm. He felt Hermione's hands on his hips, pushing him backwards, backwards, backwards, until he crashed right into a bookshelf sending books crashing down on top of them. Hermione summoned a shield charm as quick as humanly (or witchly) possible and the books simply bounced off the top of it. Shoving her wand back in her robes, she too entangled both her hands in his hair, before running them down his back, stopping at his waist and gently pulling away from him, breathing heavily.

"That what you wanted to show me?" he said in amazement as soon as he had got his breath back.

She nodded her head shyly and her cheeks flushed a pink color.

"That was bloody brilliant," he exclaimed smiling down at her face, now returning it's normal color, "I think you're the only person in the whole world who views libraries as romantic kissing places." he laughed. This was such a Hermionish act, he couldn't help but laugh at her timidness after the bold move she had just initiated.

"So you'll come to the library with me more often?" she asked in a highly playful and flirtatious tone.

Hermione. Flirting. With him.

"Fuck yes I will," he replied not even bothering with his language.

"Language, Ronald," she laughed despite her attempt to sound disapproving.

"I love you." he blurted out of the blue, not even sure of his own actions, just sure that what he said was true.

"I love you too, Ron."

And even though they were still broken; still recovering, he couldn't think of anywhere else he'd rather e, or more importantly, anyone else he'd rather be _with_.


End file.
